Hazel and Aqua
by Peridot Tears
Summary: Related one-shot collection. Yaoi, TezuFuji. Endless fluff, and some angst. If anything, Tezuka and Fuji were intertwining ivory and ebony, together but stark. And there was only one bed.
1. Smile

**Hazel and Aqua**

_**PT: Hey, I thought up plots and stuff for days. I thought of writing TezuFuji. I do kind of like this pairing, though I can't really imagine it. Dunno, I'm not used to yaoi yet. I'm just 12—thirteen next month—is it normal for anime fans my age to not exactly feel crazy about yaoi? I'm under that impression. Anyways, yaoi seems fun to write :D Cur non? This'll end up as a one-shot collection, depending on the number of reviews I get here.**_

_Disclaimer: Really? I've only played tennis for a month when I was nine, going on ten._

_Dedication_

_ezyl's girl_

_:D_

Smile

"Hey"—Tomoka nudged her companion—"Sakuno."

"Hm?" Sakuno diverted her attention from the passing Tezuka and Fuji to her friend.

"You know, it's weird that Fuji-senpai's smiling all the time and Tezuka's always..." Tomoka's voice was low; presumably, the passing regulars did not hear.

They gave no sign that Tomoka's remark had met their ears.

"Stoic?" Sakuno, catching on, suggested; Tomoka had not finished her sentence.

Rather, she had trailed off, not knowing what word to use in describing Tezuka.

"Yeah!" Tomoka rose her voice slightly; Tezuka and Fuji had walked a bit further now. "Seriously! It's weird how they're always together—and completely different! Fuji-senpai is always smiling, and Tezuka-senpai always acts like a freaking emo!"

"Well...I guess..." Sakuno could not help but agree.

--

"You know, you really do act stoic," Fuji said cheerfully. He was smiling, as usual.

Tezuka's expression did not even twitch the slightest as they walked out of the school building.

"I thought you didn't hear what those girls were saying." Tezuka's voice was also unchanging.

"I did, apparently."

"Hnn..." That was all.

The two walked in silence for a while.

In that while, the only things heard were casual footsteps, in sync with soft birdsong.

This afternoon was fairly good: the cerulean sky was heaving with thick clouds, gladly clustering together. Still, the blinding sun stubbornly peaked through the clouds' gaps.

It was peaceful where the two were walking. But the peace had to level up a bit.

"Tezuka," Fuji said abruptly. His pace did not slow—nor did Tezuka's.

Tezuka glanced at his still smiling companion.

"What makes you smile?" Fuji continued.

Again, steps didn't slow. However, the taller one stopped, without a warning of any sort.

His companion stopped with him.

And silence settled over the afternoon again, like some cat curling up upon the area.

Tezuka's face, for a moment, was not seen by the smaller regular.

"Well, besides tennis..."

Fuji still grinned, but bits of glimmering aqua were being opened to.

"...There is one thing..."

Tezuka turned around to face Fuji, whose eyes were fully open now.

The bespectacled boy looked completely serious.

"It's you," he confessed. It was said, so plainly. As if it wasn't such a big thing.

This time, the silence was not as long.

"Ah," Fuji said. His blue eyes smiled along with his mouth. "That's good."

Tezuka said nothing.

"I like it when you smile."

Tezuka turned.

Fuji's eyes slitted again, and he smiled wider.

And Tezuka found a rare smile of his own breaking across his features.

--

_**PT: W00T! DONE! MY FIRST YAOI!! :D HOPE YA LIKED IT! PLEASE REVIEW!! ;) I didn't really want to go through too much detail, but maybe next time :)**_


	2. Voice

**Hazel and Aqua**

_**PT: YAY! I PLAYED TENNIS AGAIN!**_

"…"

_**Okay, really, I just borrowed my friend's tennis racket and balls and hit a few serves and smashes…**_

_Disclaimer: …Cough, cough. LESS THAN A MONTH OF EXPERIENCE THREE YEARS AGO…_

_Dedication_

_ezyl's girl_

_:D_

**ezyl's girl **No problem! :3 Yeah, I found TezuFuji everywhere. It was implied, and on every fandom page I've been on, there were at least two stories with TezuFuji O.o Though, I like it :)

**fmuder **Thanks :) Yeah, PoT has broken my defenses against yaoi.

Voice

_This is weird, _Fuji thought, as he walked into the room.

Tezuka had gone up to Syuusuke during English class, informing him that he was going to a nearby café—that happened to be giving out free camera film with each purchase. He had asked if he would like to go with him, seeing as the buchou was passing by, and so getting some some tea from there.

Fuji had agreed to go.

So here he was.

The café was a medium-sized place, with one room for customers. It was crowded, full of buzzing people. All the tables were full; other people were standing, and almost all of them held small white paper bags, bulging with multiple hard objects.

Those had to hold the rolls of film. However, to Fuji's surprise, there was a large clearing in the middle of the room. It was cleared of all the objects that were usually there—tables.

Instead, there were microphones, neatly placed in the stands. And people.

Several well-dressed people were yelling into the microphones for quiet.

"Oh"—Fuji glanced at Tezuka; the buchou was stoic—"what's going on?"

Tezuka shrugged: he was just as surprised, apparently. Of course, he kept a stoic expression—the usual.

Fuji had the impression that someone had pasted that expression over his companion's face. It was so rare to see him smile—even 'rare' was so underdefined a word for how often he displayed joy.

The buzzing dimmed; Fuji and Tezuka decided to walk in a bit farther.

Pushing their way through the sea of people, the two Seigaku regulars felt crushed, surrounded by the sea of bodies. Over the heads of a myriad of people, even Tezuka had to struggle to see the counter.

He had to even stand on tip-toe, and peer around the backs of people; all seemed to be very young adults—perhaps around Tezuka's age.

All in all, Tezuka could hardly see the middle, let alone Fuji.

The said smiling boy—his eyes seemed to be a little more open now—felt a little nudge from behind his back.

Of course, he could feel people pushing and jabbing around him, but this one nudge seemed a little out of place. There was something about it—Fuji could not place what—that seemed a little more…purposeful; not a result of how it was so crowded. More like, a person was perhaps wanting his attention…

"Hello?" Someone put a hand on the tensai's shoulder.

"Nn?" Fuji made a questioning sound as he turned his head.

This didn't take long, and soon he found himself making eye contact with someone about his age—perhaps a little older. He was one of the people from the middle. Fuji recognized him.

The teenager—at least, he looked to be one—was straight to the point. So when he said "Come with me to the middle and bring your companion, if you have one", he was quite blunt.

For a moment—and in a sort of quick moment—Fuji's eyes were open and blinking; clearly, he was puzzled.

The guy-who-looked-like-a-teen was quick to notice. "It's just an event," he added hastily. "I just need to pick a random person to volunteer."

"Oh…" Fuji found that explanation credible enough.

"Kunimitsu?" he added.

The said captain had been forced, by the crush of the crowd, to walk forward by a few inches.

However, he was not slow to answer to his companion's familiar voice.

He turned—at least, the best he could manage—to face his companion. As he did so, he made that small grunting noise that he made sometimes.

Fuji like it; actually, he just like to he hear Tezuka's voice—so deep, cool. It was definitely premature—more so than the other regulars could so far manage.

It always seemed to hang in the air, vibrating, till it faded away completely.

Fuji like that.

He really, _really_ like that.

Whenever he got a dose of that voice, he could want more—much more.

No wonder he was so popular with the females of his school.

Most girls—especially ones in their year—would swoon when they knew he was around. Others acted like Okasada Tomoka when she was around Echizen Ryoma, and squealed openly—though those were few.

Fuji truly _liked _Tezuka; he always cheered inwardly when he was around him.

They were, after all, friends.

Fuji hadn't caught himself rambling in his thoughts before he heard that voice again:

"Fuji? Fuji? Fuji, we're up."

Only then did the tensai react.

He gave a tiny start, but not a noticeable one. Merely, he acted like how Fuji Syuusuke would act—he inquired.

"Huh?" His mouth formed a questioning O.

In answer, a microphone was shoved into his hands. Thusted, actually, but gently. Of course, the brown-haired regular opened his eyes.

"Courtesy of the Chocolates!"

The person-Fuji-presumed-was-a-teen waved to the surrounding bodies.

_Nani? _Fuji and Tezuka had been ushered into the clearing; both had been given microscopes.

It was amazing—how so many smiling, some slightly envious, faces stared at the regulars.

The teen waved again.

"Ten days ago, the Chocolates chose to have a karaoke here, in this café!"

Fuji opened his eyes. He had a bad feeling about his… He had heard enough to guess correctly…

"We have randomly selected two people from the crowd to sing a song!"

As Taka-san would say—"Oh no!"

Fuji definitely didn't sing!

A sort of ice cube—no…perhaps several—wasted no time in plummeting into the tensai's gut.

He didn't gulp, but the ice froze him.

He didn't sing; this was madness…complete, utter _madness_.

Complete insanity.

He absolutely did not do that thing called 'sing'; when you had to talk, but in a fancy way—bending, twisting, manipulating your voice in a completely different way.

He glanced again at Tezuka; stoic, always so _stoic_.

However, it hit him: If Tezuka _sang_…

To hear his deep voice bending, twisting—speaking. With his _voice_.

_He must be a good singer._ For a moment, Fuji's hear started to flutter.

Tezuka—_singing_. He could never imagine it, but the very thought—

It was definitely funny how quickly the tensai's unnatural nervousness melted into sudden eager want…

"Okay!" The teen waved his hand again, with more vigor. Now _that_ was getting annoying. "Sing a song! Any song! Together!"

So unprepared!

Fuji's mind flashed as everyone else stepped back. Tezuka, beside him, remained uncannily stoic. Amazingly, the café's buzz died within seconds.

In desperation, he made up a song on the spot; it was all of a sudden flipped off his tongue.

He held the microphone up.

**_"Hareta sora…"_** He trailed off, as he suddenly got stuck by lightning; the song wasn't made up on the spot; he had heard this song on the radio once before.

There was 99 out of a 100 chance that Tezuka didn't know the song.

Fuji swallowed; he had to start over—somehow tell everyone that he had to—

_**"…shiroku yokogitta **_line,"__Tezuka finished.

If it weren't for the crowd, Fuji could of kissed his buchou.

His voice reverberated throughout the room.

**_"Atarashi sobra hirata,"_** Fuji went on, hoping that Tezuka knew the next part as well.

He needn't to have worried.

_**"Tashidashite te wo totto hohoemu."**_

When Fuji began the next line, Tezuka didn't stop.

_**"Kasukan kanjite mono ha yuujou"**_—they didn't stop there; their voices together was breathtaking—_**"Senkaniju no kotoba demo ienai you na…"**_

Tezuka let Fuji go on himself: _**"Ieo de omoi imo egakon…"**_ His eyes brightened as Tezuka joined again.

_**"Dema mirai"**_—they sounded so _happy, _when those two sand together—_**"imo hajimari wa kono shunkan**_

**_"Kono hara…hijimai _**glory days_**."**_

--

"Ne, Tezuka," Fuji said cheerfully.

The unemotional buchou grunted.

"How'd singing feel like?" the tensai teased gently.

"Well…you sing well, Fuji." Though he was still holding a madk of cheer over his face without change, the brown-haired tennis player beamed inside. Hold that—he was acting like a happy Eiji inside.

Squealing, bouncing—literally dancing.

"Saaa, arigatou. You're good at singing as well."

The two had walked straight out of the café after they received applause for their song, camera film forgotten completely.

The streets were emptying.

"Oh, and Fuji…"

Arms snaked around the said student's middle. His eyes snapped open, revealing the blue orbs; surprised.

So warm.

Tezuka Kunimitsu slipped his head around Fuji Syuusuke's, kissed him, then let go and ran away.

--

_**PT: I have come to a point when I got turned on –Slaps self- Oh well. It shouldn't be long before the next one-shot comes out. I worked a while on this, so yeah… Next bit will not be as innocent as the first one. Though, I'm not going far as sex. The next one-shot will have—I think—the most…lemony material in this whole fic. That's the farthest I'll go. White Line was so catchy and everything, you know, the song's the—I think—third ending theme. Yeah, couldn't resist x) The end of this one-shot was supposed to leave you hanging :) The one-shots will also be connected in some way, if necessary. Enjoy!**_


	3. Kiss

**Hazel and Aqua**

_**PT: So…I now have a tennis racket. I love playing tennis 8D Anyways, I've recently read Wicked, and it has a huge vocabulary. I hope reading it has improved my own writing. I'm reading The Witch Of Blackbird Pond, and the writing is pretty good, so that might help too. I finished watching the PoT series the day before the day I finished Wicked. I can't find the OVAs anywhere on YT —.— I can only watch stuff there. Did you see the Olympics?! :D YYYEEEE!! So proud to be Chineeeeeeeesssss!! …Ahem, yeah, enjoy.**_

_Disclaimer: I never really had much of a talent for making good characters -.-_

_Dedication_

_ezyl's girl_

_:D_

**ezyl's girl **Nope, not all the songs, but Aozu is AMAZING!! :D Ryoma's voice actor sings so well; her voice sounds more feminine than I expected :3 Thanks.

**Yin's Crescent **Thanks :) Really? I just listened to the full version. I copied off the subtitles while watching the episodes on YouTube. Yeah x) Thanks for telling me.

**loki lee **Thanks :) Same here, but ever since I watched PoT, I started to love yaoi more :D

Kiss

The bespectacled teenager grabbed his shoulders, pressed him up against the wall, and leaned in for the kill.

Kami—this could not be happening. As he was pushed up against the cold brick, the shorter boy kept his eyes open; he was stark pale against the dark alley.

By Kami-sama, Hotoke-sama, Oinari-sama, and all the other Shinto gods, this could not be happening. It was just too good—more than good; actually the best thing that happened so far—a thing. He'd pinch himself, or even slap himself, to make sure that this wasn't a dream. He was too busy though, pressing hard and starting to flush, pressing hard because it was so warm against the other body. It had to be a dream, had to be a dream…had to be a dream…definitely had to…no way this was real…

If this was indeed a dream, he might as well go along with it. He might never get the chance again for this—be it real, or some hallucination.

So he pressed harder, biting down on the other person's lower lip, practically eating it.

"N-Ne"—he could hardly speak, but managed to mumble through a mouthful of lip—"is this going to affect our tennis?" He pressed harder. Was this a dream or what?

"Just," came the reply, "don't let your guard down…" One hand lifted itself and levitated higher, to drop—crane-like—into a mass of untidy brown. Fingers smoothed through the swirling sea.

--

Kami, this had to be what Heaven's Kingdom was like—and he was certain, even better.

The person Tezuka had pinned against the wall had to be the angel. The way his eyes were closed, blissfully pressing back at him, with as much fiery passion as ravenous fire devouring paper.

The buchou was taller than Fuji, so he had to bend downwards slightly, running long fingers through his messy hair.

Here he—the wonderful, to-be-cautious-around, stoic captain of the Seishun Gakuen tennis team—was, in a dark alley at night, locking lips with his rival.

How unexpected.

How queer. How strange. How—say—flabbergasting. Bewildering.

Tezuka pressed harder.

Such fiery passion had never been known to him in anything except tennis, and that fight to get his arm, paining him for so long, healed at last. Such a burning passion. Burning, blazing, his heart and mind flaming—just in kissing someone, as Fuji's teeth came together on his bottom lip. They felt like the surface of an egg. A wet one.

He pressed harder, sure that their bodies were twining together harder—so close that it would be hard even for them themselves to figure out if an arm or leg was theirs or the other's. If they had the intelligence of three year olds who have just watched some Yu-Gi-Oh episode, they would have thought they were combining, morphing into one.

The buchou wondered vaguely, as he started to sink into a hot spring of pleasure, how this had all began. How in the hell of it had he gotten here?—kissing the tensai with a will of a wildfire?

He didn't know that he was gay; he wondered that, if ever anyone found out, they would even glance at him the same way again. If his family found out? They wouldn't ever expect this, would they? Tezuka was surprised himself—but his rival was feminine enough.

God damn it, he shouldn't think so negatively at the moment.

As if to emphasize that point, his head thrusted itself forward, a little too hard, as he knocked Fuji's head further against the wall, far enough so he couldn't back off anymore unless someone broke a sizeable chunk of brick away. The shorter regular didn't retaliate; he just pressed harder, let himself be backed off so he could more easily hold him.

It just felt too good. How in the hell of it—repeated—did he end up making out with his teammate—in a dark alley, at night, not thinking of anything but pressing harder?

"_A match?" Tezuka blinked, his poker face twisting up questioningly—at least, as much as Tezuka Kunimitsu could manage._

_Fuji, smiling, gave an enthusiastic nod and said, "Mmhm!_

"_I know that we're not allowed to have our own matches within the first years, but I wanted to do it secretly." He straightened a bit, snapping his arms to the back; there was the impression of an obedient child patiently waiting for an answer to a request, not really intending to be sad about anything._

_Tezuka found himself averting Fuji's eager, _closed_ eyes, and staring at the floor, sinking quickly into deep thought._

_His poker face was still on, but a sort of atmosphere seemed to reverberate from him, in a rather skeptical way. The awaiting Fuji frowned._

"_Is it a bad idea…after all?" His eyebrows moved to another position; his shoulders seemed to drop a fraction. As if Tezuka had already turned him down._

_Seigaku's future pillar of support, not yet having gotten a pillar proposal, looked up, and he seemed to smile. "No, let's do it."_

"_Really?" A dash of lightning, Fuji's smiling face was on again, alighted with eagerness and some other form of the term 'happy'. He leaned forward, loose bangs flying wildly._

"_I also wanted to have a match against you"—anyone on the Seigaku team would have wanted to see Kunimitsu's face then!—"Fuji-kun."_

"_Arigatou, Tezuka-kun!" The said freshman blinked again as his feminine-voiced schoolmate ran forward in a rush of vigor, and lifted his hands, clasping them. Zooming in, Fuji was like a small child filled with the promise of a puppy; his smiling face was now genuine._

_And the boy with glasses once again looked stoic. However, one couldn't imagine his inner emotion. All right, maybe they could, but that was beside the point._

That wasn't exactly the beginning, but that was part of it.

Really, Fuji wasn't nervous at all; running forward and holding his hands like that—no one would have dared. He was extremely ecstatic, true, but that was unusual. _No one_ touched Tezuka Kunimitsu in such a way.

Well, he did just that.

Now, Seigaku's pillar of support felt the same fingers that had wrapped around his hands before slip up to his soft throat, exposed by his open collar, dancing as the flew up his side. One leg, unintentionally—or _was_ it?—made his thigh, making soft contact with clothed flesh.

"Tezuka-kun," Fuji mumbled, drawing his forehead to meet the said captain's, "I like you."

Just like that, it was said. Mumbled, in a cold, dark alleyway, as they pressed closer and closer. Really, Tezuka was awfully grateful that the smaller boy had said it first. He had wanted to say that himself, but he was Tezuka Kunimitsu. It just couldn't be Tezuka Kunimitsu to say such things.

Then again…it wasn't like Tezuka Kunimitsu to kiss Fuji Syuusuke without a good enough explanation in his head. He just…liked him. A lot. Maybe a little more. Or a lot more. Either way, it could be put as simply as 'he liked him'.

Yes, just say 'he liked him'.

He liked him.

--

_**PT: Did I sound too old-fashioned when I used the term 'Heaven's Kingdom'? x) I like to play with my vocabulary :D By Yu-Gi-Oh, I mean, like the Polyremization (how to spell it?) card that combines two or three monsters. I have nothing against homosexuality; I'm just a little sensitive about discussing the subject. Don't take that paragraph about Tezuka's surprise of being gay into much offence; I'm just thinking a lot. The italicized parts are flashbacks. Can someone help me out here on one thing, though? At school, I was in Drama class, and we learned about frozen poses; there was another word for 'frozen pose', but I don't remember what it was. Review!**_


	4. Dream

_**PT: Be warned, there's a bit of suicide, violence, and blood in here.**_

_Disclaimer: I'm not making money out of this, am I? No…and I think I've used this disclaimer once before…_

_Dedication_

_ezyl's girl_

_:D_

Dream

Fuji smiled at Tezuka. Genuinely. It was completely pure, pure happiness. Joy. Not one of those smiles that he always smiled. Those were absolutely fake, a disguise for his weaknesses, his emotions, everything that would make him readable as a book.

He smiled all the time, whether he was happy or not. Either way, he was always cheerful and bright as a rainbow. That was just how he was.

And if he was angry, or just serious on a rather high level, he would keep his eyes closed anyway, and resume his endless smile. There was absolutely no end to his cheer.

This smile he gave know spoke of true happiness. In fact, it even had a contagious aura about it; amazing. Tezuka himself even found a bit of a smile, a small one, tugging at the never-ending stillness of his lips. Contagious indeed! The smile was just coaxing at Tezuka's face to twitch into a smile. It's not that he never knew how to—he forgot how to. When he was around Fuji, however, it automatically came to him again. The corners of his mouth just moved upwards on their own. Just for the tensai that never frowned.

"Saaa, Tezuka"—Fuji took a step towards him, and that was uncanny; he was smiling in true innocence—"I have something really important to tell you."

Another step, maybe a bit loping movement, lazily.

For a moment, a rush of adrenaline made entrance to Tezuka's inner chest.

Important…

Important…

Really important…?

Important as what he said the other night?

Tezuka was sure…that he knew what he wanted to say. What else was there? He had been anticipating for days of what he expected now. He'd been wanting to say it for days, ever since he had been beaten to the proclamation of, "I like you." He couldn't say it himself—he doubted that Fuji would be very expectant if he did—but he wanted to hear it, if not say it.

He truly wanted to hear those three, little single-syllable-d words issue from the brunette's throat.

So he opened his ears.

Fuji took a few of those unnerving steps toward the stoic buchou; then he stopped.

Tezuka's heart thudded in his chest, his blood beginning to roar in his ears as the calm flow sped up.

Now they were an inch away from each other. The brown-haired tensai's breath could be felt on Tezuka's face and neck. Fuji's warm breath blew again, softly against his throat.

Then he took out a butcher knife.

Tezuka blinked twice, bewildered as Tezuka could be.

"It's people like you," Fuji explained as he held the giant cutlery piece up, "who drive people like me"—the bespectacled boy had a very bad feeling about this now—"to do things like…"

Before Tezuka's frozen figure and amazed gaze, the smaller regular slit his own throat with the knife in his hand.

"F-Fuji?" the still-standing boy asked weakly. It had just happened so fast. All Tezuka could do was stand and blink stupidly. The said boy fell on his knees. He didn't even choke.

"I was cheating on you." When Fuji said this, he didn't even gasp for breath! He just smiled again; he didn't even twitch. "I like Eiji; I was going out with him.

"Bye now." Then the prodigy fell on his face.

"F-Fu-ji…?" The buchou blinked stupidly. Did his eyes deceive him?

"Fu…ji?" he repeated. His mind collected itself rapidly, but he still stood there. In shock.

Without warning, a scream emitted from his mouth. It just came out. Tezuka Kunimitsu seemed to lose that stony mind that had been carved into his brain since God-knows-when.

"FUUUJJJJJJIIIIIIII…!!"

A ripping sort of feeling tore through him as he himself sank to his knees. "FUJI."

He was dead? Just like that? He just killed himself? For what? He just said he liked Eiji better!

Before his lost mind, Tezuka crumpled.

--

"Gah!"

Tezuka's eyes snapped open as he gasped, and awoke with a start.

Fuji…? his mind whimpered.

With another start, something awfully warm shifted next to him.

What? He was lying on his back, in a bed—what? Under covers, head propped onto pillows, hair messier that usual, glasses off, in the dark?

Turning his head, he saw another messy hairstyle. Oh.

Right. Fuji. He wasn't dead. He was asleep next to him. They had fallen asleep together in Tezuka's bed. Right.

So that was all a dream.

Fuji shifted again, next to him, still pressed hard to his body. He felt awfully warm and comforting after that brow-wetting nightmare.

Tezuka shifted in the din of his room again as he curled up next to the shorter regular. He felt Fuji's body heat pulse on the other side of their clothing. He was alive.

He flipped over on his other side, so he was facing Fuji completely. Moonlight struck the older teen's face in his slumber; Tezuka reveled at the sight of his familiar face. A shaft of silvery moonlight shifted in through the window, settling on the brunette's face. He looked so at ease with the world, completely relaxed in his sleep. His mussed hair fell flat against his face, and the sheets, he was not smiling. Inui may presume that the tensai smiled even in his sleep, but the said boy only willingly let Tezuka see the way he slept. One of the only times he ever dropped that cheerful mask for a long time was in slumber, only the corners of his mouth frozen, looking like they had been twitching upwards.

The buchou found it Fuji cute during those times.

The worst dream, Tezuka noted with a shudder, which I ever had—and ever will, mark me—is the one I just woke up from.

The boy next to him shifted again, even closer. Thank God, what he dreamed was just…an uncanny dream. Thank God it wasn't real.

Although, those three words Fuji could have said still had yet to be spoken. Tezuka couldn't wait another moment for that.

--

_**PT: I hope I wasn't that evil with this n.nU This was meant to be short, evil, but—I hope, rather dearly—worth reading. Anyways, review!**_


	5. Moon

**Hazel and Aqua**

_**PT: I hope that this isn't late! Enjoy! I was reading one night when I found the word for frozen pose in a book. Tableau!! :) Found it! Finally, after watching so much Prince of Tennis, reading fanfics, and looking at different Perfect Pair deviations, I have finally come to… Well, ex. "OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!! Tezuka and Fuji are holding each other! SQUEEE!!" Yeah, I have come to love TezuFuji x) A lot.**_

_Disclaimer: …Konomi Takeshi got third place in that Valentine Kiss thingy. I do not allow people to hear me sing, let alone in a language I'm not fluent in._

_Dedication_

_ezyl's girl_

_:D_

Moon

"Ne, Tezuka." Fuji turned around in the bathroom. "If you're looking for the towel I left in here, it's too late. Oishi has it." He grinned and turned back to the sink.

"Aaa," the buchou answered. Inside, a bit of fascination sparked at how the tensai was able to notice him when he came into the room so quietly.

Then, it came into his focus.

He was close up to Fuji and now saw the result of his match against Shiraishi. Hs body…was covered with scratches, scrapes, mild burns that obviously caused pain—name it.

He had seen those ailments right after the match, of course—but now…the bathroom was dark, and Fuji was standing right next to the window. Light filtered through the—somewhat dusty— glass, setting an eerie glow in the room.

The meek sunbeams flowed into the room, liquid-like; it would hurt the eyes to feast upon such a sight.

"Your match was good, Fuji," Tezuka commented. His eyes rested on the scratches—especially a particularly nasty one on the left cheek.

_Your match was good, Fuji. _He felt slightly stupid after saying those words. Though, he couldn't think of anything else; it was slightly awkward. After all, he had walked in, wanting to…wanting to…confess. Then Fuji assumed that he was looking for the towel he had taken to the sinks. And Tezuka answered, then complimented him in the awkward silence that had followed.

Not only that, but Fuji had been sorely disappointed after losing the match, in the clearest way everyone could see. Someone had to have been unconscious to not have noticed.

Tezuka couldn't help but think—as Fuji turned to face him at the moment, the slanting beams of light setting a gleam on his dripping hair and damp skin—that the match with Shiraishi was the most intense he had ever played besides the one with the Seigaku buchou himself.

He had completely lost himself, yelling—not to mention, he was clearly furious.

"Arigatou, Tezuka." He was smiling; he had his happy, undisturbed mask on; he was hiding his true emotions; he was actually frustrated inside. He turned back to the wet sink.

"Aaa." Tezuka didn't turn to leave. Instead, he steeled himself again. He did not want to do this—he had pondered and pondered for days to no end, an uncomfortable feeling building up within his bosom; it hurt to no end. He had truly hesitated about their…secret…relationship. He had truly enjoyed it, he really did. The days with Fuji had been some of the best in his short life. Yet, he had always felt a twinge within the depths of his being—the twitch of his hesitating heart, protesting.

Society would never agree with their feelings for each other, insisting that it was wrong. Just _wrong_.

Tezuka had to protest in his mind, thinking in a long time with the mind of an impulsive child. Why, he would protest in his mind, was his relationship so _wrong_?

Love was love; no one could protest against it. It was a feeling that rose unexpectedly, not a good or bad thing. Love could _hurt_ you. That's just what it did to Tezuka—and day after day, being near Fuji, or whenever he thought of the smiling tensai, he would hurt inside. He would practically sob in his mind, thinking that it was unfair that society—and perhaps even the people close to him—would disapprove of his emotions around another male.

Worse for him yet, he came from a traditionalist family, and he was absolutely _certain _that he would probably be disowned. The mildest thing that could happen was that he would be stared at, tension would build and eventually he would be expelled from the household. He would bring shame upon the entire family, and he'd be defiling scar in the always-purged Tezuka bloodline, if it went on at all; he was the only child of the Tezuka family.

He had made up his mind at last. Yet, the hurt was still there; he chose his family's honor and bloodline over Fuji's heart and his affection. His blood became ice when he thought of it, and he would freeze on the inside—his chest would squirm with unbearable discomfort.

"Fuji," he began, and stopped. He was now conscious of the heat rising in his body; his face felt hot, his blood was rushing like a freezing river, his heart started hammering against his ribs.

Fuji turned back to him. "Mmm?"

He truly had no will to do this—none. He could already imagine his heart splitting in two, the hurt flying full-force across Fuji's face. He could already just imagine how Fuji would then hastily fix that cheerful mask over his face, tell him it was all right; he already dreaded that.

Tezuka swallowed, then squeezed the words out of his throat, trying not to choke.

"Fuji," he repeated, and the prodigy tilted his head at the slightest. Tezuka clenched his fist and went on. "I've been thinking a lot and…"

An invisible hand constricted his throat, wrapping around the windpipe as Fuji's smile faltered a bit. So he could guess. Still, Tezuka forced his speech out. He dearly hoped that his face was still stony.

Fuji took a step forward, before he could choke any dialogue out.

"Fu…" Tezuka's voice faltered as Fuji took a few more steps, then leaned forward and brushed his lips against his buchou's cheek.

When he backed away, the spot burned, as if Fuji's mouth was a hot iron. Tezuka noticed that the smaller boy's eyes were opened. A slight chill traveled down his spine as he saw the two spots of blue.

"I understand." Fuji's voice was already hushed, and he wasn't smiling. "Things won't go well for us if we keep going with this relationship," he added, with a touch of grimness.

Already, Tezuka felt like he wanted to cry, but he smothered the feelings easily. It still hurt in the one spot of his chest, though.

Then Fuji closed his eyes to slits again, plastered a wide smile—why was there something so fake to it?—onto his face and walked past his buchou without another word. Out of the bathroom, he walked off.

Tezuka wanted nothing more than to turn and follow him—to take back his unspoken words and embrace the brunette, tell him that he _loved _him. It was as if everything would be fixed just by doing that. Still, he grew lengthening roots from his feet, past the bathroom floor, neatly arranged with once-gleaming tiles.

Inside his chest, past his blank face and still figure, his heart was shattered—a delicate glass vase dropped from the peak of Mount Fuji.

--

Tezuka lay in his bed. On the other side of his dark room, the full moon washed the walls and floor with its gentle silver touch.

In the din of his side, the stoic youth could hardly stop shaking. His broken heart was quivering.

He could imagine—looking through the beaming mask on Fuji's face—all the hurt the tensai was going through. It pained Tezuka's heart to imagine that. A thousand icicles jabbed at the organ in his chest, without the slightest hesitation.

And he wondered—hesitantly, because he usually didn't think this way—if Fuji was thinking of him at that moment. He must be, after what had happened last month. When he had told the tensai that they couldn't be together…

The usually bespectacled boy (he had taken off his glasses earlier) closed his hazel eyes, fighting an urge to just _cry_. Therein was lain the irony; he was trying to prevent grieving tears when he didn't even know how to cry. He did not even know how to show emotions to those limits; they came naturally whenever he was truly feeling enough, and those moments did not come very often. People usually cried to about five times average each year, he had read once. He wasn't sure whether or not that was true, but he could hardly recall the last time he had shed a single tear.

Without knowing what he was doing, Tezuka lifted himself from his bed with a sigh.

Quietly, he made his way to the window, where the moon was still letting the light slant inwards.

So peaceful…the boy wondered if Fuji was looking at the same moon right at the moment. It was beautiful tonight; it glowed full and healthy, amongst a myriad of thin clouds. It looked like it was in the middle of a clustered of fleece; the clouds were a mild silver-gray.

Tezuka bit his bottom lip lightly, making up his mind.

He was hit by a sudden inspiration; but he had never done such a thing before. It was not like him—but his heart throbbed and pleaded for him to do what he had thought up of.

--

Fuji felt a light breeze tease his hair and face as it passed by; it was a breezy and cool night, but it was quiet. He was sitting on the roof of his house as he stared upwards, marveling at the moon.

He sat on his rooftop whenever he felt fit. No one knew about it, and he didn't exactly want that to change. He sat on the roof when he was overcome with emotion; it was just so peaceful, so beautiful—calm and tranquil.

It made him forget all his problems and just revel in the quiet moments of time.

Then, a bush rustled, there was a sound on the side of the house, where the rope Fuji used to climb up twitched.

Startled, the tensai turned his head with his eyes open—and faced Tezuka. Now, _this_ was unusual.

"Fuji…"

"Tezuka," he said.

"I didn't know you climbed roofs."

"Tezuka…" The bespectacled boy leaned over as Fuji softly said his name.

"I changed my mind…"

No more words needed to be spoken as Fuji shook his head quickly in understanding. He's been thinking about that for a long time now.

"Don't worry." He stood up, without warning. "I love you."

--

_**PT: Inspired by a love of sitting on my roof…**_


	6. Ice

**Hazel and Aqua**

_**PT: Okay, sorry for the late update -Shotshotshot- Well, I had Writer**_**'**_**s Block -frowns- but I was listening to this song about the Sichuan earthquake sung by Jackie Chan; one line gave me complete and utter inspiration, which I will translate: "No matter where you are, I'll always find you." The song is called**__生死不离。_

_Disclaimer: Alas, the only languages I can speak are Chinese and English._

_Dedication_

_ezylrybbit (who has changed her penname)_

_:D_

**GreenAppleIce **Thanks :) I never really thought of romance at the time, but the thought did hit me once. I just took the same way the sky looked one night when I was sitting on the roof, and how it felt ;D

**Milisante **Thank you :) Don't worry; I'll never split them up permanently x) Though, I would like to write some angst_**.**_ It's kind of something I like writing -grins-

**yoshikochan **Lol, :) I was aiming for that x)

**ezylrybbit** Your stories are really enjoyable :) THANK YOU ;) Sitting on the roof is AWESOME. Except mine wasn't made for climbing on x) So I can't get on often. Oh, the sadness.

**SkySurf **Yes, I imagine it would :) Thanks.

**nanachan87 **Kya…thanks. I feel so happy :D

Ice

For the longest time, Tezuka had been hard of hearing.

He was blind; he was deaf; he was dumb. He could never catch the way he was stared at; and stared at he was. Everywhere he went, tennis players knew his name, knew his status, feared a match with him—feared the humiliation if such happened. He noticed all this, but said nothing. He knew, and that was clear. Even if his name wasn't known to some, his stern demeanor was enough to earn great respect.

He knew the stares were directed at him, with the respect his presence found, with the burning intensity of curiosity.

So he always felt the stares that came from eyes he saw for what must have been every day. Every day—and he never noticed their meaning.

He was so blind to the odd blue eyes that would snap open, when his own did not take awareness, and stare at him with something that could have been longing, or simply affection.

He had never caught those sharp eyes, in all the time he had spent with their owner.

When he finally did notice—well, it was much too late.

And the day came—much too soon—that he turned around, confessed that he was leaving.

"I'm going to Germany, to become a professional tennis player."

And the blue eyes opened, sending chills down his spine—like ice, cold blue fire. Then _he_ answered—as if such a thing were of no great urgency, no call for sadness—"Good luck, then."

He left.

They never even got to say a real good-bye.

--

Tezuka went to Germany; and his arm throbbed constantly on the way.

But he had no regrets—he was there. And on his way to becoming a professional tennis player. That was because tennis was his life.

Really.

No lie lay in that.

Tennis—tennis, tennis, tennis—always tennis—his life, his pride. The thrill of throwing up the felt ball, the thud as he swung his arm—that free, free feeling! like he could do it forever, tirelessly—running—back, forth—and struggling to reach—

The end. Something, just to keep playing.

The things he did for tennis.... Presently, he was no longer in Japan. No longer with Seigaku. No longer with those familiar blue eyes.

--

"_Ne, what would you do...if you could never play tennis again?"_

"_Hn."_

"_I'm serious."_

"_...Tennis is my life. Without tennis, there's nothing left."_

--

Tezuka frowned as he read through his cell phone's phone book, noticing names he thought he had deleted. He still didn't know what he had been thinking—trying to erase, leave everything behind?—

_**Oishi Syuichirou**_

_**Fuji Syuusuke**_

_**Inui Sadaharu**_

_**Kawamura Takashi**_

_**Kikumaru Eiji**_

_**Momoshiro Takeshi**_

_**Echizen Ryoma**_

_**Kaidoh Kaoru**_

One after another.

He could hardly remember their faces by now—

Suddenly impulse pushed him forward—he looked out the window, saw some drizzle tapping the glass with insistent pelting. There they clung, to the glass, a translucent silver.

The glittered softly and in moment Tezuka thought they looked like eyes, a myriad of opaque spots—Argos—

_I should go outside, _he found himself thinking. _The air is fresher while it's raining._

--

He walked down the streets, feeling the drizzle greet those below; like caressing touches here, there...

Rain.

Rain reminded Tezuka of the color blue.

Blue—he liked that color. He liked the rain.

Rain came down, it cleaned the earth, it was the savior of the land. Even in the farthest times, rain was there, needed—the first thing that he thought of was the fact that farmers depended on it for their crops. Rain. Calming, calming rain; clean, comforting, the sound and sight beautiful, serene.

Blue. Rain made him think of blue. He had taken a liking to the color—he wasn't sure when, exactly—especially ice blue. Blue was cryptic, an enigma. His enigma.

Blue, and Tezuka suddenly felt lonely—incredibly lonely. Solitary; he also noticed that the streets were empty, he was the only one left. The last dog had found somewhere to curl up for the night, the last pickpocket slunk away to the shadows, the last child at home.

Even in the rain, the streets of Germany were breathtakingly beautiful—especially at night.

No, not rain—_drizzle. _But that made no difference; the narrow streets were no less wondrous.

Alone. Blue. Rain.

It wasn't drizzle after all...the drizzle had become rain a while ago. Tezuka had only just noticed. Once again, the words ran through his head—

_Alone._

_Blue._

_Rain._

He was alone. It was raining. And he thought of the color blue.

Never, in a while, had he felt so incredibly alone.

For he _was_ lonely, he suddenly realized; but he was used to that, was he not?

Biting his lip, Tezuka could feel something—neither hot nor cold—beginning to well up in his eyes. Staring down the empty, narrow streets, he let the rain drench him—let it pour, faster...faster...down in sheets. Pour—drench—

He was cold, icy water coming down relentlessly. Ice.

Ice—reminding him of the color, ice blue.

Ice blue...like ice blue eyes, ice blue eyes that stared down his soul, like the icy eyes of eternity.

Something warm, metallic, escaped from its fleshy prison and escaped Tezuka's bottom lip. It tasted bittersweet. Bittersweet. Bittersweet, and coppery.

Ice blue eyes. Eyes, with a discernible color. Eyes. Blue. Ice. Ice blue eyes. And eternity.

Memories of ice blue eyes, ice blue eyes that penetrated the most guarded of beings; the gaze of eternity, the endless stretch of enigma. The tempest of serenity.

And their parting—cold as the eyes and the ice. Frost; cool, cool, hidden boys.

He had left. Without even a parting good-bye. It was a frosty memory, with no need for words—but Tezuka wanted them. He wished that, when he parted with Fuji, he had at least said something. At that moment the boy on the lonely street felt his insides freeze over.

Tezuka turned, the lone silhouette of the inky night...and called down the empty street:

"It's starting to rain."

--

"_If you didn't have tennis, what would you do?"_

"_Even without any source of life, I'll move on."_

--

_**PT: Oh, I love Writer's Block -barfs- Anyways, review and everything—thank you for reading! And I actually counted the number of strokes to put the names of the regulars in order :/ Wow. I have no idea what Germany's like, but I did some reading, recalled the shared experience of people who visited that place—my mom, my seventh grade SS teacher—and remembered what my experiences at Quebec were like. Yeah, French, but still European :/**_


	7. Blaze

_Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis—eh, property of some...people...in Japan...._

_Dedication_

_ezylrybbit_

_:D_

**Charmane **Mmhm. I'm still prickly about the earthquake, even though I didn't lose anyone there. Nationalism, apparently .-. Yeah, the song's beautiful :) I was crying my eyes out at the last moment; the lyrics are really powerful. I wish MY school had organized a donation D:

**ezylrybbit** -Huggles- ^^ The rain just sort of came from the random rainy days when I went outside alone for a while, to check the weather. It's sort of a reflection off that—and my own emo/ lonely feelings back in elementary school.

**Vhii1217 **Fluff? :3 Okay then. Thanks ^^ I don't think I put enough fluff in here D: So sorry. But I enjoyed writing the end, where everything gets fluffy.

Blaze

_It wasn't real._

_It couldn't be._

_When he left, he had believed...that he would never cross paths with him again._

_It was far more regrettable than when he first thought of it—but enough had happened in his lifetime to teach him...that it was not anything to be real. There were so many factors that stayed his longing. Society, his own family, the other's family, their friends, the _impossibility...

_He had thought he would have been able to bear with it—_

_He thought wrong._

_He had tried already, but after a while it became too harsh for him to withstand. Now that he thought of it, deeply, he realized himself that he had tried again; but because he thought that his love for tennis was enough. Enough...that tennis kept him from Fuji._

_And now—they were miles apart, miles and miles away—so far, so distant, that he wondered, vaguely, if they would ever meet again. He thought that such a thing would be impossible. Far, far away...the endless stretch between the two..._

_Fuji, who was now a memory...Tezuka had no hope left of finding him. Fuji, in Japan; Tezuka, in Germany._

--

"...Fuji?" It couldn't be real.

"Yo." It just couldn't be.

Silence. It couldn't be..._couldn't..._

"Fuji?" Tezuka repeated. He took a hesitant step back. "Fuji?" _Fuji. _How long ago was it when he had last said that name? He hadn't even mentioned the mountain that shared the boy's name—every time even the Fuji apple came to mind, his oldest acquaintance followed. _Fuji...Fuji...Fuji..._rang in his head with utter persistence, like a metronome. As if that name was making up for all the years it had been banished from Tezuka's mind; its owner had returned, let them back in.

_Fuji._

"_Fuji," _he said, this time out loud, marveling at the person and the name.

He hadn't changed—it must have been a couple of years since their last moment together; and he could never have forgotten such a person; the smile was eternally etched into his mind's memory. But—he was taller. Fuji was the same as Tezuka remembered, sans the height—the ivory complexion, the unusually shaded brown hair, and the same smile. That fake smile, plastered onto that pale face, and those shut eyelids, hiding whatever storm in what Tezuka knew were a pair of eyes—eyes so blue and so piercing that he sometimes wondered whether or not Fuji was actually a full human. But he knew him better than most; and knew very well that Fuji was as human as anyone. He was just stronger, neither bending nor breaking.

And now he was here, at Tezuka's own door.

_Here._

And a million—no, a countless myriad of—questions sprung forth from his mind: How did Fuji find him? Why was he here? How long was he to stay? How he himself—Tezuka—to react?

"Can I come in?" Fuji said, smiling, always smiling. Had he not changed?

"Fuji...," Tezuka repeated, but took a complying step back. Fuji took this as an invite and let himself in, taking his time.

Even when he had passed into the house Tezuka didn't bother to turn around—he kept his eyes trained upon the spot where Fuji had only been a moment before, watching the empty hallway. He feared—and he felt some searing shame to be scared of such thoughts—that if he turned around, he would have to meet the gaze of...him...

Things had happened in their younger years...things he would have rather forgotten...but he took it as a sign of mental breakdown as well as defiance to his former obedience.

With whom did he share a first kiss?—one that had left him dizzy and unfocused, breathing hard as if there was nothing else in the world. Who had been there when he had sat on a roof, gazing up at the sky and its moon, feeling a slight breeze sweep the air?—the first time he could remember when he had actually broken a rule? Who was the reason he had actually done all this? None other than the one intruding upon his home—

But then again, was this truly intruding? It was not as if Tezuka had even attempted to bar Fuji's way into his apartment. To intrude—this was arguable.

Tezuka scolded himself inwardly for a moment before turning for a confrontation.

When he had, Fuji was already standing next to the coffee table. (Tezuka didn't keep much in his apartment...there was only one him in one room, besides the tiny bathroom. All he kept were a couple of chairs, a desk, the coffee table that was there for no reason, and his bed.)

He was merely standing there, not doing anything but smiling—somehow that smile made Tezuka's knees go weak.

But Tezuka forced himself forward, feeling the atmosphere beginning to heave in his room.

"Ne, Tezuka"—his voice...it sounded too much like before...did Fuji _ever_ change?—"how is it here in Germany?"

"It..." Tezuka paused, looking for his words; Fuji waited, still and patient. "Tennis is very progressive here." His heart drummed against his ribs as the tension in the room crackled passionately; he added, quickly, "How did you find my apartment?"

"Saaa...someone knew you. I came over to Munich for a photography session with a pen pal. He knew someone who's played a match with you before and gave me your address."

Tezuka was sure that the blue eyes were opening slightly as Fuji examined him; "You've grown."

"Hn," he grunted; inside he felt his heart beginning to flutter—or shake? In any case, he was brought to turn around abruptly and say, "I'll get tea" before walking to a shelf; which—thankfully—still had some hot water in a canister and tea bags in a box.

Every step felt like the familiar heave of power weights as he made his way to the shelf; not knowing exactly how fast he was moving. The whole time, he could feel the eyes of Fuji upon him; perhaps the eyes were open to their full extent; but Tezuka dared not look.

The air seemed to give a distinct heave when he leaned up for the teabags.

_This might be...a long night,_ the bespectacled boy thought.

--

"Here." He handed the foam cup to Fuji's outstretched hand, not meeting his eyes. He stared at anything...Fuji's slim hand, the floor, anything. For a moment he even stared at the semi-white steam curling upwards from the cup.

"Arigatou." Fuji must've been smiling, but Tezuka still did not look up. He walked over to his desk, sat down on the chair. There was a shuffle of movement as Fuji sat down at the other chair.

The air was stifled, once more, by oncoming clouds as silence made itself welcome.

That was how they spent the next few hours.

--

It was raining by the time the tensai decided to take his leave. He merely smiled, put aside his empty cup, and started for the door—

"I need to go. Ja na."

But Tezuka didn't want him to. At the words, spoken after the silence, the still very-much-awake boy's head shot up. And he somehow thought it painful to see the smile—

No, he was imagining it—there _was _no smile.

The eyes were open, the mouth still, the face...sad?

And Tezuka suddenly felt the chill of the room, heard the rain falling outside, falling and falling, thrumming on the windows, thrumming.

His insides froze.

In the next second, he thought he was flying, flying forward, like his life depended on it solely, and then he was there, hand on a slim wrist, gazing up at the eyes of blue ice; one word escaping his mouth:

"Stay."

The wrist was warm. Solace from the cold.

In the next moment the brunette had gathered the smaller boy fully in his arms, feeling the skin—like fire—beneath his own. Hands clutching desperately at a smaller back, feeling the warm breath on his neck, his face buried in surprisingly soft hair. Seeking. Solace from the pain.

"Don't go," he whispered, not caring if his voice was muffled against his friend's hair, caring not for the emotions that spilled over from the leaf that was his mind. Or heart. "Don't go...Fuji Syuusuke."

He kept a tight hold on the lithe body, feeling it stiffen before relaxing. A pair of arms slithered around him, complying. Just like years ago. When they were together—and admittedly—or decidedly—lovers. The small hands clutching at his back, how Tezuka wanted so much for that moment to last into an eternity. He only felt safe, sheltered, a something warm bubbling upward in his stomach and his throat twisting into a knot. "Stay...please..."

It was only then when he found an answer, and it shattered some sort of glass, the glass that had separated them the whole time, untouched. "I will, then. Oh, and..."

A thud, then the knot in his throat loosening; the former buchou was on the floor, his solace on top of him. The tensai quickly fitted his head beneath Tezuka's chin, said something inaudible. But the latter only smiled, and sought out for his solace once more. Hands roamed bodies for the rest of the night.

Arms around each other, believing that this would be alternative enough for the years missing each other, miles away, the strongest glass staying one and the other—

_But such things would never be able to keep them for long._

--

_**PT: You might be getting a second update this week...because I just got inspiration from another car accident in front of my house (FOURTH FREAKING ONE SINCE WINTER -__-") And I got some more inspiration! I overheard these two boys in my art class at school. One had gone on an overnight trip to Washington DC, and they were talking about sleeping in the hotel rooms (I went on an overnight trip once, btw, but I got the cot in the room to myself XD):**_

_**Guy who went on trip: We shared beds.**_

_**Guy who stayed at school: Really?!**_

_**Guy who went on trip: Yeah! But we didn't do anything to each other, don't worry.**_

_**Me: -Trying very hard not to laugh- (Thinking.) 'Scratch carefully...the clown's hair is getting messed up... Don't laugh...don't laugh...'**_


	8. Vine

_Disclaimer: Konomi Takeshi is the owner of Prince of Tennis—do we have to go over this again? XD_

_Dedication_

_ezylrybbit_

_:D_

**ezylrybbit** Ah, nostalgia –weeps- ;_; Middle schooool~~~ -clubbed- Ahem, sorry about that xD Thanks, ezyl.

**Charmane** :D I personally think that a bit cliché, but still...as long as it's likable :D XD Those two are hilarious. The guy who went on the trip is freaking funny; he's so perverted and random....

**AgentClau** Thanks so much n__n I'm really happy to hear you say that :) That sort of thing stokes my ego a lot :D

It was all a lie. One lie, one big lie—built on more lies.

Everything was fake: That curve of a smile set immobile on that mask-like face; that pair of lids that shuttered the two hidden moons; that light laugh; that soft and steady voice—that was but a shell. It was an artificial façade for a cryptic being.

It shocked Tezuka to find that people could not tell that it was all fake. After all, who could truly be so cheerful, so calm—when his face was so mask-like?—the smile, the closed eyelids?—could they not see that it was a disguise?

No, they all thought he was the perfect, happy prodigy.

But Fuji was simply human—more than human, but still human. Humans felt, they always felt. It was the nature of a living being. Tezuka knew that, and he sometimes only wanted the boy to melt into him, to stop being a guiser for at least a while—he wanted to know what it was like, to love a boy that was Fuji but not the puzzlement he knew; a clearly defined person.

But he loved the puzzlement. There was nothing so—complete, so perfect; so great a whirlwind.

Because if anything, life was boring without enigma.

Sometimes the thought would almost make him smile, when he and Fuji were together, when they were together in his German apartment.

"Ashiteru yo," Fuji would say, but almost with hesitation, for a simple "suki sa" would suffice.

"Ich liebe dich," Tezuka would say, and Fuji would laugh at how he spoke the foreign tongue, which he almost teased was "cute."

Life was smoothing down, like a paste on something flat, something smooth, something solid. They were together, in Germany—so far away from Japan. It seemed so strange that Fuji would go so far just to be with Tezuka—"Indirectly," the former pointed out, a smile plastered to his face. But Fuji was Fuji, and Tezuka would wonder....

--

They were both strange, but still stiff—intertwining ivory and ebony—so stark against each other—so wound up, so tightly around each other.

Then came the day Fuji actually moved into Tezuka's apartment.

The day came, and he merely walked in, dragging a case behind him. "My apartment's kind of dingy...," he said when his friend looked at him; and nothing more was said.

There was only one bed in the apartment.

--

_**PT: Erm…idk xD –shot- Because…at school I have a tendency to be all insanely happy all the time—really a façade; strangely enough, no one can tell. And now I'm taking Japanese at school, so I might be abusing my lessons soon. Soon. xD This one's kind of short...**_


End file.
